Meet the Medic - Epilogue
by iamthegang
Summary: What happened during the aftermath of 'Meet the Medic'.


Medic was a lot of things. He was talented; a fabulous battler. He was a pretty smart guy. One thing he wasn't, however, was happy. He did his very best to hide this and he quite obviously wasn't very good at it. Still, most people seemed to think this made him 'mysterious' and 'dark' and all of these other thing, when in actuality, he wasn't.

Medic was…

Brought out of his own mindless thoughts as he sat boredly when his door burst open over-dramatically. Archimedes had been sleeping in the opened bird cage awoke with a start, skipped as he flew out. However, the bird only discovered there was a friend in the doorway.

"Hello!" Heavy greeted, announcing his presence to Medic and everyone within the entire apartment complex that Medic lived. Medic simply responded with a small nod. Heavy smacked upside the head, making his way to the kitchen to steal Medic's food, Archimedes happily following after him. Usually Heavy gave Medic at least a bit of positive energy (how could he not?), but today... happiness really didn't seem like an option.

There wasn't anything in particular that was biting at him; he simply had these kinds of days. Some days, Medic didn't want to leave the house. He didn't want to eat or talk or even sleep. He just didn't want to do anything.

This was one of those days.

He did not want Heavy to be here; _not today_.

"Vhy are you here?" he finally managed to ask. Even to Medic, his voice sounded pathetic. Heavy, however, was completely oblivious and simply thought of it as Doctor's Behavior. He looks up at his friend from the nearby kitchen, a whole sandvich in his mouth. He accidentally dropped a piece of cheese onto the floor, which Archimedes immediately scarfed down. Heavy swallowed a bite.

"Why not?" He shrugged and looked down at Archimedes, who was pecking at the floor. "Hey, have you fed Archimedes lately? He seems… really… hungry…" Heavy tilted his head, finally realizing something was most definitely 'off' with his dear friend. "Uh…Medic?" Medic said nothing. He looked out the window. "Medic?" Heavy frowned and dropped the rest of the sandvich on the floor for Archimedes, making his way back to the living room.

Medic was sitting on the couch as he had been when Heavy entered, but he came to realize that his friend was kind of in a sorry state. He was still in his pajamas, although it was late afternoon. There were bags under his eyes and he was unshaven. His eyes remained focused on the lights of 2Fort in the darkening outside. Heavy furrowed his eye brows in confusion.

"Medic?"

"Vhy are you here?" the German man asked again. Heavy's eyes narrowed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode in front of the window, blocking Medic's gaze. Medic's expression didn't shift even slightly and he didn't look at Heavy.

"You, what the hell is up with you?" Medic didn't answer. He didn't blink. It didn't even look like he was breathing. Heavy took a hand out of his pocket to snap his fingers loudly. Medic slowly brought up his eyes to look Heavy in the face.

"Vhat do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't." That was a complete, blatant, flat-out lie and they both knew it. Medic knew exactly what he meant. It's not as if he wasn't aware of… this. He knew perfectly well that… this wasn't normal; not for anyone.

"Oh really?" Heavy said in an uncharacteristically dry tone that was… actually more suited to Medic. "Where are the normal complaints?" No answer. "Where are your normal sarcastic remarks?" No answer. "Where is Medic?" The doctor's eyes closed and his head went down. Heavy got an answer out of that one.

"Not sure."

It wasn't the answer he was expecting and nothing he was prepared for. Heavy simply stared at his friend with wide eyes and one hand in his pocket. Somewhere in the kitchen, Archimedes's talons clicked on the linoleum.

"Uh… Medic…" Heavy finally said after a moment. "This… this is not right. Have you…" He trailed off, trying to think of a way convey this properly.

"Have I vhat?" Medic asked slowly.

"I do not know… is there even a reason for…" His other hand came out of his pocket so he could properly flail his arms around Medic's living room. "…this?" Medic smashed his hands on his face, a sudden rush of irritability taking over.

"Vhy!? I don't even know vhat you're talking about!" Heavy grabbed hold of Medic's wrist and pulled one hand away from his face.

"You know exactly what I am talking about!" he snapped. Medic gave him a stone cold glare, but he was trembling. After a moment or two, Medic reclaimed his arm and looked away.

"…It's nothing, okay? It's nothing."

Medic's eyes widened a little. The answer was so quick and so firm that he wasn't quite sure what to do.

So he stood.

"Listen, if you vouldn't just barge into my house unannounced, ve vouldn't be having zis problem." Heavy's face was cold and his shoulders slumped.

"Really? Normally when I barge into your house unannounced, you are annoyed, not depressed. There's clearly some sort of issue here."

"I'm not depressed!" Medic snapped a bit too fiercely, causing Heavy to straighten up his posture, going wide eyed again.

Heavy was a carefree, somewhat oblivious man. It was a common misconception that he was stupid. This was by no means true. He was actually rather intelligent when push came to shove.

"Doc-"

"I'm not depressed!" Medic said a little louder, even though Heavy didn't say anything.

"Doctor…"

"I'm not…" Medic collapsed back to the couch, his head in his hands. "I'm…not…depress ed…"

"You are depressed."

"I know, schweinhund! So leave me alone!"

"Hell no." Medic gritted his teeth.

"Listen, I don't know vhat you're going to do, but you can't make me happy! You can't!"

"I know."

"It's im- what."

"I said 'I know'." Heavy leaned back, putting his arms above his head. Medic looked over at him in genuine shock, searching his face for an answer. Heavy closed his eyes. "Hey, we have managed to keep this hidden from the general public for a good while now, but Soldier used to be pretty bad too." Medic said nothing and his gaze did not change. "To most people he does not seem any different because all he does is think, but… he used to be different; trust me. _The point is_, it took an intervention from me, Engineer, and the team to make him even realize it. _You,_on the other hand, already know it is a problem. You just need to toughen up and ask someone for help."

"Zat doesn't make any sense."

"What?"

"'Toughen up and ask someone for help'. Zat doesn't make sense." Heavy rolled his eyes.

"All right. And _I am__stupid_." The Russian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, eyes focused on the ground. "A weak man does everything on his own. A weak man thinks he can solve everything without the help of someone else, even though he knows he needs it."

"Can a veak person be happy?" Heavy contemplated this a moment.

"I do not think you are getting what I mean by 'weak'."

"I don't care. I just vant… to…" Medic trailed off. Heavy tilted his head.

"Hmm?"

"I just vant… to be happy…" Heavy sighed heavily, pushing himself to his feet.

"If you want it that bad, you have gotta be willing to do something about it. Even if you feel like just sitting there, you have to _do something._ No matter how little energy you have got. _Just do something._Go for a hike, destroy some baby's toy, cause a worldwide blackout, _I do not give a crap what it is.__ Do something._" Heavy headed out to the door, Archimedes chirping to say goodbye. "If you do not want help, then you must do it yourself, yes?"

And away he goes.

Medic stared at the door for a really long time. He was only snapped out of his trance when Archimedes jumped up beside him, curling up. He patted his head, small pecks tickling his hand. The former Nazi thought for a moment, eyes focused on the floor.

What would it take to be happy? He didn't know.

Perhaps there was no formula. Maybe it wasn't something to be solved. Or maybe it was a very intricate process. He just didn't know.

Whatever it was, he couldn't deny Heavy had a point. When he had one of those days where he didn't want to do anything, he didn't do anything. Simple as that. He never tried fighting that feeling.

Medic stood. Archimedes tilted his head at his owner.

The German man did not know what steps he was supposed to take or where those steps would take him. But anything that could make him happy was worth a shot.

He would start with a good rest.


End file.
